Wait, What?
by MyStudyIs-Pink
Summary: When Sherlock pisses John off, he leaves to visit his girlfriend hoping to be 'cheered' up. Whilst there his girlfriend tells him something that floors him. When he arrives home, something happens that has John questioning everything. Review. T for mild Language.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock stood by one of the large windows, watching the snow falling to the ground of the now quiet Baker street. His violin was held loosely in his hand, resting against his thigh.

John was sitting in his arm chair, watching him. He wouldn't have thought that _snow_ would be what has Sherlock so enchanted, had their be another option. But their wasn't another option. It was the snow. He leaned back in his chair, clearing his throat softly. Sherlock didn't even bat an eyelash.

"You've been standing there for hours" John sighed.

"Half an hour, John" Sherlock mumbled against the glass.

"No Sherlock.. Hours"

Sherlock lifted his head and raised the wrist with his watch on. "Oh" he mumbled "You're right, John. Feels good, doesn't it"

John lifted himself out of his chair, refusing to look at Sherlock. He slipped his jacket on, and marched down the stairs without saying a word. Sherlock stood staring at the space where John had previously been sitting.

Knowing John wouldn't be back until he had a long sulk, he turned back to the window. Someone – though Sherlock knew who _exactly – _had ruined the peacefulness of Baker street. The snow laying on the ground had once been smooth and untouched. Now it was trod on and dirtied.

Growling under his breath, Sherlock pushed away from the window. He flung himself on to the armchair, his legs pulled to his chin. The violin had been thrown onto the couch. Sherlock glanced at the skull on the mantle.

"Don't look at me like that" He said. "It was a compliment, it's not my fault John takes everything so personally".

* * *

Whilst Sherlock was having a _riveting _conversation with the skull, John was in a black cab on his way to see his girlfriend of the moment. Her name is Tracy. Sherlock didn't particularly care for her, especially the way she smells. It was for that reason exactly that John was going to see her, so that when he went home Sherlock would have no choice but to smell her "vile, disgusting, should be illegal" odour on Johns clothing. Maybe even on John himself if he played his cards right.

John loved nothing more than pissing Sherlock off. Especially since it was so easy to do once you got to know him.

The cab pulled up to Tracy's front door.

"Thanks mate" John nodded, handing over the fare to the driver.

He walked up the stairs to Tracy's front door, knocking three times he strained his ears for any noise. When he heard shuffling he moved back slightly and plastered a smile on his face. It was only a little forced. He thinks.

"John!" Tracy laughed, pulling him into the house "What a surprise" she smiled.

"A good one, I hope" John wanted to laugh at his attempt of a 'sexy' voice. Tracy either didn't notice it, or didn't want to comment on how ridiculous it sounded. She didn't say anything back, just led John to the living room.

"Make yourself at home, then. Cup of tea, maybe a glass of wine?"

"A cup of tea would be great, thanks" John smiled up at her.

"I really like having you here, John" Tracy said walking into the living room with two cups of tea. John stood to help her.

"Oh, yeah?" He quizzed.

"Yeah.. No offence, but I hate going back to yours" She laughed sheepishly, not meeting his eye.

"you do?" John was genuinely shocked.. and slightly offended. "Why's that then?"

"Its your flat mate really"

"Sherlock?" He said, sounding puzzled. Sherlock had only been their once or twice when Tracy was round, barely saying a word

"yeah.. I mean, I'm not closed minded or anything but sometimes.. Sometimes things are just too much, you know?" She smiled up at him, as if expecting him to understand "I don't know how you put up with it. With him being gay."

Now John was worried for her sanity. She wasn't making any sense to him. She didn't like coming round because Sherlock was _gay_? Surely he had heard her wrong.

"I'm sorry" He stuttered, placing his cup on the coffee table and turning to face her fully. "I just want to make sure I'm completely understanding what's going on here. You don't like coming round to mine.. because Sherlock is gay? Is that correct?" By the time John finished talking, his voice had turned hard and his blue eyes were now like ice glaring at the ignorant woman.

"Well, yes" Tracy blustered. John sighed heavily, placed his hands on his knees and nodded at the ground.

"Okay then. Tracy, it has been.. wonderful knowing you, up until tonight, but I don't think we can see each other any more. I'm sorry" He nodded at Tracy, who looked shocked as if she genuinely didn't expect that to happen, and moved to leave the room.

Just before he reached the living room door, he stopped and turned back to Tracy.

"Actually, I'm not sorry. Don't know why I said that. Sherlock's sexual preference shouldn't have any bearing on our relationship. It shouldn't have bearing on _any_ relationship except for Sherlock's. Good bye Tracy." He turned sharply, walked down Tracy's small hallway and to her front door. When he stepped onto her stoop, he made sure to slam the door just for dramatic effect.

_Sherlock would've liked that_, John thought.

* * *

Back at 221B Baker street, John found Sherlock – who had moved his armchair so he could see out of the window – had fallen asleep in a tiny ball. John, who was comfortable in his sexuality, thought it was one of the most adorable things he had ever seen. Smiling to himself, he moved over to the chair, kneeling down next to Sherlock he softly shook his shoulder.

"Sherlock" He whispered. Sherlock made a tiny _humph _noise but didn't seem to wake up. Shaking his shoulder a little harder, John kept repeating his name until one grey eye peered at John, tiredly.

"wh-_sahk fkjdjf_" Sherlock spoke softly, still half asleep. John laughed quietly, shaking his head.

"Come one, lets get you to bed" they walked slowly to Sherlock's bedroom, John had to wrap his arms around him to stop Sherlock from falling.

When they reached Sherlock's bed, John lay him down slowly. With his head buried in his pillow, and his knees draw up to his chin, John covered him with the duvet.

"Good night" John whispered leaning over, he placed a soft kiss on what was meant to be Sherlock's cheek but the sleepy man had shifted slightly and Johns kiss landed right on the corner of Sherlock's mouth. John stilled, his lips still softly on Sherlock's. He wanted to kiss him properly.

More than he had wanted to kiss Tracy, he wanted to kiss Sherlock.

John quickly pulled away, thankfully Sherlock didn't wake up, and sped out of the room. He closed over the door quietly and leaned against it. His breath leaving in quiet huffs. He touched his fingers to his lips which were tingling.

_What _is going on?!

* * *

**Hello readers. My writing is a little rusty, I know. This is my 'baby step' to get back into writing. If anyone is available for Beta work, PM me please!**

**Did you like the story? If so, I'm thinking of making it into a multi-chapter story.. I'm writing up a plan as we speak! I have a new computer so updating shouldn't be too difficult. The story would be John/Sherlock canon for anyone interested!**

**Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**

The next morning, as John lay awake in his bed staring at the numbers blinking on his alarm clock. 6:07. The man hadn't slept a wink after what had happened in Sherlock's bedroom, and now he was supposed to go into an office full of sick people and.. _do _things?

_No, I don't bloody think so, _John thinks. His eyes felt like someone had taken sandpaper and stapled them onto the inside of his lids. He reached blindly for his mobile, finding it inside his pillowcase. Straining to see the small screen, he swiped through his contacts until he found 'Willowbank Health Centre'. He pressed the call button.

"_Willowbank Health Centre, this is Diane speaking_"John narrowed his eyes. Why in Gods name is she so.. _happy _at this time? Its not natural.

"H-hello, Diane. Its John" His voice was hoarse and hurt his throat from lack of water and use.

"_Oh! Good morning John! Are you calling to make an appointment? You're not sick are you?_" Diane sounded very enthusiastic about the Doctors phone call, though her enthusiasm quickly turned to concern as she realised exactly _where _he was calling.

"No no, not making an appointment. I am feeling rather poorly though, so I'm just calling ahead of time as I don't think I'll be in today. Do you think you could ring Jason to come in? Tell him I'll take one of his shifts, will you?" not wanting to stay on the phone any longer, "you're a star, so you are Diane! I'll see you on Thursday!" Without waiting on a reply from the _lovely _Diane, John hung up his phone and threw it onto the small chair in the corner of his room.

Flopping onto his back, he stared at the ceiling through bleary eyes. _I wonder what Sherlock is doing? Is he still sleeping, maybe?_ Another glance at the alarm clock. 6:22. _yes,_ he thinks, _most likely sleeping still._

Thinking of Sherlock asleep always makes John laugh. The man thinks he doesn't sleep nearly as often as he does. John often finds him snoozing on the couch, with a book on his chest and when Sherlock wakes up after these naps he says he was in his 'mind palace'. _Of course you were_, John laughs.

Looking back at the clock. 8:28. John does a double take. Had he fallen asleep again? _Must have._ John could hear shuffling and clangs ring through the flat. _Sherlock must be making tea.. Or doing an experiment,_ he thinks. Pulling himself out of bed, he yawns and does a stretch. As he stands up the feeling of dread falls to the pit of his stomach. Groaning he covers his eyes. He's not sure how to face Sherlock. _Does he remember? Probably not.. but I do. _He groans and hides his face in has hands.

Taking a deep breath, he pulls the bedroom door open, and tries to walk normally down the stairs to the living room. Trying to place just the right amount of pressure on each foot as he steps down. Standing where the hall meets the living room, you could see Sherlock pacing and pacing and pacing.

"Bit early don't you think?" John asks, his voice breaking. Sherlock stopped and looked at him, seemingly looking straight through him. Thankfully, he didn't say anything about it.

"I need a case, John. I cant go on living like this." The desperation in his Sherlock's voice made John roll his eyes.

"You solved one yesterday" He chuckled, moving into the kitchen to make his tea.

"Yesterday. I solved one _yesterday. _Today is not yesterday and I need a case _today._" Sherlock started throwing books every which way, pouting – John felt a flutter in his chest. _Heart burn,_ he thought.

Putting the kettle on to boil, John turned to look at Sherlock, leaning against the counter. Sherlock was to busy mumbling to himself to notice Johns staring. John found himself staring at the rise and fall of Sherlock's chest, his own breathing mirroring Sherlock's. He stares at Sherlock's fingers grasping the mug of tea.

_He has such awkward fingers, _he thinks. He finds himself enraptured with the way Sherlock's fingers, long and dexterous as they shift and mold themselves the mug. John pictures those fingers holding on to his naked hip.. Or wrapped around his...

A loud whistling noise has John startled. His whole body jumps, his arms flailing sending books and a jug of.. _is that eye balls?_ flying to the floor. He turns and pulls the kettle, which had been making the offending noise, off of the hob and onto a tray. He took deep, calming breaths trying to make his heart beat regularly.

"What's wrong with you?" A deep, silk-like voice behind him asked.

"Wrong? Nothings wrong" His voice was nervous, shakey. He could feel Sherlocks breath on the back of his neck, making the hair on his arms stand to attention.

Sherlock didn't say anything back, just sighed and moved to the fridge, which he opened and pulled out the milk. Again, he stood behind John, close enough for John to feel him breathe against his neck. He leaned over John and placed the carton of milk next to the kettle. He then breezed into the living room, silent on his bare feet.

"Is this in date?" John questioned.

"I had Mrs Hudson do a shop yesterday.. Listen, are you sure you're okay?"

Making his tea, milk and two sugars, he turned back to Sherlock making sure to avoid his eyes which were appraising his every move, cataloguing every expression showed on his face and nodded.

"Yeah.. Was feeling a little poorly this morning, but I'll be fine after this" He lifted his mug.

"Alright.." Sherlock didn't sound convinced, but John was thankful he let it go. _For now, anyway._

John moved to the couch, sat down and tried to make himself comfy. Setting the cup of tea on the coffee table infront of him, he switched it for the TV remote. He lifted the remote to the tiny TV in the corner of the room, pointedly ignoring the look Sherlock was giving him.

"Whats on the TV then" He sighed, and sat back.

He looked out of the corner of his eye at Sherlock, to find him staring right back at John. He was sitting in his armchair, his leg folded over the other with his hands clasped together under his chin. He was looking at John as if trying to figure him out.

"Will you stop that?" John asked, frustrated.

Sherlock merely cocked his head to the side.

"No."

"Right" John sighed, clenching his eyes shut. The sound of someone clearing their throat, had John look over at the doorway.

"Someone has been very, very naughty." The voice said. John groaned.

_Could this day get _any _worse?._

* * *

**Hello everybody! Everyone looking forward to tonight?! SEASON THREE! I cant wait, been far too long :D Hope you enjoy this chapter :) Remember to review, favorite or follow.. All three would be brilliant!**

**See you on Saturday :)**


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